Eternal Exodus
by Regard
Summary: The continuing drama of Alex Browning and his unfortunate cohorts as they struggle each day against an unstoppable hunter: Death itself.
1. Default Chapter

Alex Browning managed to drag his head up from the comfort of the pillow below him. Opening sleep crusted eyes and rubbing his hands over his face in an effort to warm it, he looked around the room in confusion. This specific room was alien to him, but so had all the others in the last few weeks. Glancing around for anyone he knew, he soon realized that he was alone. Not good. He hated being alone, especially after what had happened only a few days earlier to Sam Washer. Poor guy never saw that damn bi-plane coming...well, neither did anyone else. Sighing to himself and throwing his legs over the matress in the cold, dark room, he noticed that the carpet was plush...very plush. Taking a startled glance again around the room, he noticed an ornate victorian mirror hanging above a massive oak dresser, upon which stood two very old looking brass lamps, gleaming in their own luminescence. Standing up slowly, he turned and looked at the bed behind him. It was lavishly dressed in dark curtains, oak wood beams and stands, and a very plush king size matress.   
  
'Oh no' he thought, the words seeming to ring through the room as if spoken loudly, 'not this dream again'. It had been weeks since Alex had dreamed about the room where his fiance Marilyn had died so many months ago. They had been happy, boistrous, even naive in their love. They had rented a room in the most luxurious hotel in the tiny town of Redlands, California, at a very fair price of six undred a night, considering the room size. They had made love almost all night, only stopping to breath and eat, tearing the bed to shreds in their passion. However, the next day would not be as happy. Awaking groggy and more than a little sore, Alex had reached for her, running his hands along her cold side...cold? No, that wasn't right...why would she be cold? He had bolted upright in the bed, looking at her face...where it should have been, at any rate. For some reason, a tall, oval shaped mirror close to the bed had shattered and fallen on the large bed, a large chunk slicing her neck cleanly and quickly. He had been sleeping to well to notice the blood flowing into his side of the bed, but he now realized the stiffness with which his bedclothes clung to his body.   
  
Looking down, he almost vomited as he saw that the entire bed was drenched, still squishing sickeningly, in her life essence. That had been the most terrifying and motionally draining experience of his life...at that time, anyway. Too bad he didn't know then what he knew now...that his friends, his closest family members, even his college teachers and his pets, would all soon die tragic, almost impossible deaths at the icy hands of a sadistic, twisted, evil and malevolent force known as Death. He hadn't seen it, hadn't heard it, but he had felt its presence after the loss of his...of Marilyn. Ever since then, he had been running from it, finding others that had suffered similar bizarre and horrifying experiences and befriending them, ever convinced that as long as they stuck together, as long as they watched each others backs, they would survive.   
  
It turned out, though, that not all backs could be watched. Four of the twenty people he had met and traveled with so far had 'bit it', as Sam was so keen on saying before he himself was taken in a tragic, unbelievable freak storm. And now, after all this time, the dream...the God-awful, horrifying, never-ending pain filled dream of the night that Marylin had died, was back, almost as a warning...He had to wake up, had to escape, before it managed to finish itself. Glancing around furtively, Alex noticed a door creaking slightly on old brass hinges...why had that never been there before? Perhaps, in his desire to escape, his subconscious had created an available exit for him? Shrugging, he walked over to the door and pushed it open slowly, the creaking, grinding hinges pushing back in protest. There, only five feet from the threshold, was...the bedroom. Glancing behind him, he was astonished to find himself in the bathroom, water running in the shower and blood on the floor.   
  
He suddenly realized that he was feeling pain, and he looked down at his throbbing hand, the knuckles bleeding badly, chunks of glass sticking out of the flesh and bone. Looking up, he caught staggered reflections of himself in the now shattered mirror, which he apparently had punched without remembering. Just then, as he was about to pass out from the blood he had not realized he had been steadily oozing, Morgan Reilley dashed in, catching Alex as he slumped to the floor. Alex barely heard Morgan calling his name, yelling from far away for him to hang in there, that help was coming, that he would be okay. Alex could only nod, whimpering slightly in an attempt to speak. Then, darkness took him, and he was awoken then next instant by a doctor in a sky blue uniform standing over him, grinning grimly. 


	2. Chapter Two

Alex managed a half-hearted smile himself, although it was false and vaguely more of a grimace. "Welcome back, Alex. I'm Doctor Welsh, and you are in Montgomery General Hospital. Do you know why you are here, Alex?"   
  
Alex only nodded, unable to speak, his throat a mass of sore tissue and dried out vocal chords.   
  
"Alex, I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer them VOCALLY, okay? You lost a lot of blood, kid, and you may have suffered some brain damage, but we need to make sure before we jump to any conclusions." Alex nodded again, sighing gently, and croaked out a feable "okay." Doctor Welsh seemed happy with this response, because he instantly flipped a page over in the clipboard he was holding.   
  
"Okay now, Alex, do you know where you are?"   
  
"Montgomery General Hospital."  
  
"Good, good, short term is fair. Now, how old are you?"  
  
"21"  
  
"And what is your name?"  
  
"Alex Browning" He managed again, more hoarsly though.The doctor nodded and reached to the table next to Alex, his hand disappearing just outside of his vision, returning a moment later holding a white styrofoam cup. Doctor Welsh handed this to Alex, who took it in shaky hands and looked inside, relieved to find plain ice water. Taking a slow sip, he coughed once as it soothed his dried out throat immediately, taking more small, quick sips in turn. Feeling better able to speak now, he handed to cup back to the doctor who accepted it with a grin.   
  
"Now, Alex, where do you live?"  
  
Alex froze. He hadn't been expecting this at all. Not since they had left his hometown had anyone even questioned the fact that he was a normal, everyday member of the community, no matter where they were staying at the time. Avoiding the doctor's unusually grey eyes, Alex decided on the truth.   
  
"I don't live anywhere, doc. I'm a traveling man, just me and my friends. We are on a cross country tour, kinda like on MTV."   
  
Sighing in relief as the doctor seemed to accept this answer, his pen scribbling madly in chicken scratch on his sheet, Alex could only marvel at his own ingenuity. He had told the truth, sure, but not all of it. Just enough to satisfy the doctor's curiosity. Standing abruptly, Doctor Welsh smiled kindly and said   
  
"Well, Alex, that's all I need to know. It's pretty obvious that your fine, you just need a little rest and some fluids, is all. Were going to keep you overnight, just so you can build up some more fluids, and then release you on tuesday, okay?"   
  
Alex only nodded again, happy to have the doctor leave. Hopefully, his friends were still there, waiting to see him. He prayed that nothing had happened to them just yet, what with....he shook his head, forcing himself to ignore that for now. He had survived again, just as he always had, and he would just have to make sure that he worried about himself for now. As the doctor closed the large oak door behind him, Alex sighed deeply, the fatigue he had been feeling the entire time the doc had been there, but had been drowned out by tension, finally catching up with him and slamming him in the face. He layed down upon the not-uncomfortable hospital issue pillow and mattress, settling his aching head into the soft, foam stuffed material and turning onto his side. He placated himself to watch the lines jumping up and down on his heart monitor, surprised at just how fast it was moving despite his resting position. Closing his eyes, he wasn't aware how quickly sleep took him until Aleisha Moreno awoke him with a playful sock on the arm. Groaning lightly, Alex rubbed his now sore shoulder and turned over, happy to see more of his friends standing over him, their faces taught with worry.   
  
"Alex," said Aleisha in her usual southern California drawl, "We were so worried about you! What happened, man? I mean, one minute you were taking a shower, and the next you were bleeding on the bathroom floor. Did....did.." she lowered her voice to a whisper, although the quiet, enclosed room made it louder than what she wanted. "Did..'it'...attack, again?"   
  
Alex shook his head, setting his back against the headboard and surveying his friends worried expressions.   
  
"I'm not sure, guys. As far as I know, no. But, then again, weirder has happened. I was having that dream...you know...the one about...yeah, Mark, that one."   
  
Mark had tapped his ring finger, where the tan line from his own wedding band shown brighter in the false light.   
  
"Next thing I know," he continued, "I was on the floor and Morgan was screaming at me, the mirror in the bathroom shattered all around me and blood seeming to seep from all parts of my body. I really don't know if 'it' is becoming stronger, or if this is just some tactic he hasn't used yet...psychological warfare, or something...and it's trying it now. Whatever is happening, we have to keep on our toes. No one does anyting alone." He glared around the room and said again "Anything."   
  
Everyone shuffled uncomfortably, glancing at each other fleetingly, sometimes blushing. Finally, Kirsten Reilley, Morgan's sister, raised her hand. Nodding towards her, she lowered it slowly and, like a child asking a teacher for a restroom break, asked slowly   
  
"Alex...what about...um...well, you know that there are more guys than girls here, and we can't all be....watching each other, ya know? I guess...well, what I'm trying to say is...er..."   
  
Someone bumper her, and she almost fell forward, stuttering even worse. Glaring back at her attacker, she looked back at Alex and sighed. Finally, she blurted out   
  
"What about when we have to go to the bathroom? What then? Are we to keep our eyes on each other at ALL times, Alex? What about showers? I mean, I'm not trying to be a prude, but this is important, and it just concerns common decency, right?"   
  
Alex grinned at Kirsten's honesty, and shook his head. "Kirsten, death doesn't care about decency, or privacy, or any of that. So, yes, we will watch each others backs at every juncture. We will team up, in pairs, so that everyone has a partner. Now, let's see..."   
  
He lifted his finger and began a head count, making sure to check gender as well. "Six guys, including me, and four girls. Well, I guess Kirsten and Morgan can watch each other. They ARE brother and sister after all. And Aleisha and Megan can watch each other, since they are such good friends. Now, I know that Courtney and Steve are an item, so they can watch each others backs, like they like to so much."   
  
He grinned at them, and Courtney blushed, elbowing Steve in the ribs, who only chuckled. "Now, the rest of us fellas can watch each other. We'll be like a regular foot ball team! Just, no towel snapping, 'k guys?"   
  
They all laughed at this, and the mood seemed lightened again. Smiling at his friends, Alex again felt somewhat safe, knowing that all these people, and possibly more to come, were there to keep him alive, and he them. He had never had a closer, more trustworthy family before, and it made him happy to know that, no matter what, if death did finally catch up with him, he would die having had known them. They spent the rest of the visit chatting about where to go next, and Tom Bombadil(what are the odds of that? Alex had constantly asked when they met) suggested Reno. They all thought that that was a great idea, and so made out a route map and driver plan before they left. Alex waved goodbye to the Courtney as she closed the door behind her, grinning widely at him. He sighed again, looking over at the clock. 'Geesh, eleven already?' he thought. He turned over again, and closed his eyes, the beep of his heart monitor loud in his ears. 'This is going to be a short night.' he sighed, then fell into unconsciousness. Behind him, against the far wall, just above his dresser, the large numbered clock, with it's sweeping second hand, stopped ticking. 


	3. Chapter Three

The next day dawned grey and not a little humid. The summer months were fading fast, and August was at the doorstep. Alex managed to open his encrusted eyes and stare bleerily around the hospital room, a rather familiar sight considering how many he had been in. Sitting up slowly, he looked at his hand and saw that the nurse must have come and replaced his cast with a more breathable cotton bandage. The wounds from the shattered mirror had healed, but some rather nasty scars were already starting to form. Sighing, Alex looked down and saw that, although covered with blankets, he was completely naked. What the hell? Had the nurse figured him an easy target, what with the healthy compliment of pain killers they had been feeding him intravaneously? Alex grimaced, but this was soon replaced by a grin. She had been kind of cute....'No, no, this isn't right. Where the hell are my clothes?' he thought, looking all around the room. The dresser against the far wall caught his eye and he listened intently for anyone coming down the hall. Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it had stopped right when he had fallen alseep. Either that, or he had slept for a solid twelve hours. The second hand was sweeping normally, left to right, and the ticking of the machinery within was pronounced obviously in the quiet of the room.   
  
Standing up slowly, gingerly, Alex let the covers fall and walked cautiously to the dresser, grabbing hold of the wheeled control unit that was powering his IV's. He listened as well as he could for any approaching footsteps, made himself ready for anyone that might want to enter the room, when he heard a well suppressed giggle from behind. Alex froze. 'Oh, shit...oh, shit....who the hell is that?' he thought frantically, more than afraid to turn around and face his voyeur. 'Well, I'll never know unless I look' he thought, and rotated his head slowly to the left, hard over his shoulder, his left eye straining into the farthest corner of the socket to try to glimpse the person. They weren't there, so they must be further to the side. He repeated the movement again, this time to the right, all the while facing away from the ever present feminine giggles. 'Damnit, where the hell is she?' he thought, unable to see anything in the poorly lit room. Finally, he could take no more and he sighed openly, his shoulders rising and falling in defeat.   
  
Steeling himself and putting on his most angry face(he hoped), he turned around and place his hands on his hips, facing the opposite end of the room. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice quaking slightly in irritation, despite his trying to sound tough. Another round of giggles was his only answer, followed by a faint rustling of fabric. Just as he was about to take a step, two strong, womanly arms wrapped around his front and clasped together, covering his crotch. He felt the warmth of another body, fairly well endowed, pushing up against his back and a soft pair of lips pressing against his neck. Again, Alex froze. His terror now took over completely. Who the hell is this person? What do they want? Is this another sadistic fan, hoping to kill him so that they could be famous? All these questions and more repeated themselves at a frantic pace in his head, bouncing harshly against the inside of his skull. His vision started to tunnel, and he began to hyperventilate. The person behind him giggled again and backed away, sliding her arms erotically up his chest as she started to come around to his front.   
  
"Alex, my dear, calm down. Its just me!" And it was. It was just her. But it couldn't be. She was dead.   
  
Alex began to shake his head stupidly, his mouth dropped open and his eyes wide with confusion and fear.   
  
"Alex, hon, calm down. I know, I shouldn't be here, but I am. I've come to tell you something, my love. I've come to tell you..."   
  
And she was gone. No smoke, no fading image, no clap of thunder. Just gone. Alex collapsed to the floor, shaking in fear and childish confusion. The dream had been one thing. What the hell was this? Had Death found a new, more entertaining way to screw with him? Alex could only shake his head absent mindedly, mumbling incoherently. Just as he was about to scream, the IV control unit emitted a loud beep and he jerked his head up. Alex was back in his bed, eyes encrusted with sleep, clock ticking loudly away to his right, the IV controller beeping that the bag of morphine was empty. Another dream? Or had it been real? God, what is happening to me? Why does all this have to happen to me? Why doesn't HE just kill me, and be done with it? As these questions flowed lazily through his mind, Alex's door opened and in walked a rather shapely nurse, her scrubs fitting nicely to her form and her rear sliding side to side in an obvious representation of her sexuality. She was carrying another IV bag, this one labeled Saline, and was walking silently to his unit. Reaching up, she undid the connection to the spent bag and draped the hose over an extra hook.   
  
She removed the bag and tossed it skillfully into a nearby trash can. Popping out an extra piece of plastic, she placed the bag of Saline onto the hook and reached for the connection tube, which fell to the floor with a slight tapping bounce. Giggling under her breath, the nurse knelt down and retrieved the tube, rising back up slowly and purposefully. Alex was starting to breath a little harder, his arousal getting the best of him as the nurse seemed to be almost dancing in her chore. Just as he was about to say hello, though, the nurse had looked back up and caught his eye. Green. The most beautiful green he had ever seen. He had seen eyes like that before. His breath was now catching in his throat, as his terror from before started to realize again. Winking, the nurse reached up one finely tanned hand and hooked it in her auburn hair, sliding it up and back slowly. She seemed to be moving in slow motion, every single second like a minute. She finished moving her hair behind her ear and looked back up. And there, her one good eye staring intently at him while the other socket remained vacant and hollow, the skin around it pocked or missing entirely was Marylin. Alex screamed. 


	4. Chapter Four

Alex awoke again, this time for real, to a maelstrom of movement and screamed commands, backgrounded by the eternal beeping and whining of alarms and monitors. Doctors were running in and out of the hospital room, nurses in tow or being left behind, checking data and comparing it to information on a clipboard. The doctors were screaming orders at the nurses and each other, but nothing seemed to be getting done. Alex looked side to side, hoping to collect some semblance of what was going on, but each movement seemed weighed, slowed down. It was almost like he was in another dream, but a brand new IV changed that thought in a heartbeat. As the thick metal tube slid painfully into his arm, sparks flew across his vision and the room spun a little. In that small moment, Alex realized how much pain he was actually in, as almost everything below his neck was spiking with an unusual electricity, focusing at moments in his gut, then sliding down quickly to his legs, then striking back up to his head. Everytime the strange sensation entered his skull, it seemed to bounce around, blurring his vision and causing stars to dance around the room.   
  
He was catching snippets of the doctors conversations now, bits involving "blood gasses falling" and "calling surgery!" sticking like splinters in the part of his mind that controlled fear. He began to panic, a very stupid move indeed, because as he started to breathe faster, and his heartbeat increased, his pain amplified. Just when he thought the pain could get no worse, it stopped, so abruptly in fact that he had no time to enjoy it, because almost immediately after the pain subsided did a tremendous pressure well up in his chest. It felt like a giant was stepping on his ribs, and at the same time, a massive volcano was trying to explode outwards. The pain was so intense that he caught his breath, flailing his arms madly as if to strike the force from off of his body. The pressure increased to a crushing level, and he found it impossible to catch any breath at all, his vision swimming and dancing as his eyes darted from first one unfamiliar face to another. Then, as if a massive balloon had burst in his chest, his entire rib cage bounced upwards, throwing his body vertically from the hard hospital mattress.   
  
The pain had stopped, but something was still wrong. Now, instead of pain or pressure, he felt nothing. Nothing. Still slightly dazed from the pressure that had just been pushing moments ago on his chest, Alex raised his hand up and slid it up to his ribs, right over his heart. Everyone that was in the room froze, as if suddenly entranced by the movement of his hand.There was something warm and sticky there, soaking his hospital gown and coating his fingers. Moving his hand around a bit, he found that the area where his heart should be was slightly spongy, as if the bone had been removed or turned to something softer. Just as he was about to push, one of the nurses grabbed his hand harshly and began feeling feverishly for a pulse, then seemed to get disgusted with the search. All this time, there was a terrible screeching sound to his left, as if there were an overlong test of the emergency broadcasting system going on.   
  
Another doctor came tearing through the already abused room door then, hauling behind him a relatively large and very complicated looking device, all sorts of hoses and dials branching out from alomst every orifice. Another one of the doctors leaned over him, yelling something, but Alex hardly heard him. He was too busy watching the room go slowly dark. Was this death? Was this it? After all this time, would the terrible demon that had hunted him and his friends for so long finally get it's wish? Alex tried to fight the oncoming flood of blackness, the ever-shrinking tunnel that was his vision, but he had no more energy. The doctors and nurses were feverishly doing something outside of his vision, below his neck, but he didn't know what, nor did he seem to care. He was drifting now, swimming through the inky blackness. Everything seemed to be fading away, the world, his memories. He saw images, bare flashes, of his parents, his friends, the faces of all those he had known and lost in his lifetime.   
  
The blackness began to lighten around him, began to glow with an infused type of light. Ahead of him, in the very center of his vision, was a dancing light, twinkling and pulsating like a star. I was growing bigger, closer, warmer. Alex could feel the happiness that radiated from the light, the joy, the family that he had always wanted, his love again in his arms. All that would be his again soon. He smiled, reaching out his arms, trying to grasp the light that was coming towards him. It was coming closer...closer...he was so happy now...no more suffering...no more death...it was over now...Alex laughed, a victorious laugh, one full of triumph, triumph towards the battle he had been fighting for so many years. He had won. Death may have claimed him, but he was going to heaven, he was going home, to where he had always belonged. He reached forward harder, his fingers barely touching the edges of the brilliant force, but then only caught void. He reached again, but the light was further away. It was leaving him. NO! NO! Not after all this time! He would not lose like this! Damn Death! Damn it's cruelty, its malice!   
  
As Alex continued to curse the force that had hunted him for so long, the light grew fainter and fainter until it was just darkness again. He was swimming, floating in a void of nothing, oblivious to everything and aware of nothing. Then, to his surprise more than anything, he began to hear something. It was muffled, but he was almost sure it was a regular beeping sound. He tried to turn his head, tried to focus on the sound. It was getting louder, louder, and now he could hear some hushed voices, talking very quickly and strangely high pitched. He saw just darkness still, but everything else was starting to become more familiar. He now recognized the voices of the doctors, muttering about how they had been lucky, how someone was a fighter. He then felt something on his rm, suddenly realizing it was a hand, and a voice very close to his ear. He didn't recognize it, but he heard what it said.   
  
"Mister Browning, Alex, you made it. You are one lucky little bastard, you know that? Your heart exploded, and we have you hooked up to an artificial pump for now, but were in the process of getting a transplant. Just rest, Alex, you'll be fine. Damn, but you kids are resilient nowadays."   
  
Alex just laid there. His heart had exploded? How the hell had that happened? He didn't care. He was too tired to, anyway. Darkness found him again. Silence surrounded him. He was drifting. Nothing. In the last fleeting moments of his consciousness, Alex said a silent prayer for the others, hoping that they would stay away until he was recovered again. Then, sleep took him, and he thought nothing again until morning. 


	5. Chapter Five

Alex slowly woke up again-God, how many times was he going to do this?-and yawned slightly, his eyes cracking open against the crud that had developed over the lids. He stared blearily up at the obscenely bright flourescent bulbs directly above him, their brilliance almost seeming to stare back down at him and laugh as he struggled to wake. He made to stretch his arms, to draw them over his head and lock the fingers together, push straight up and crack his joints. However, he quickly noticed that he was unable to lift his arms more than a few inches from the surface of his bed. What the hell? He moved to sit up, to look at what was binding his arms, but his head was restrained as well, a thick but comfortable strap of heavy-duty material crossing over his forehead. He lay there and tried to collect his thoughts. Okay, first things first: where the hell am I? He scanned what he could of the small room he was in...hmm..monitors...sparsely decorated...generic colors...*sniff*ech! strong antiseptic...hospital room. That's right! He was in the hospital...he had arrived here...when? Jesus, he couldn't even recall what day it was.   
  
He listened a moment, trying to pick up the sound of footsteps, of anything....and noticed the LACK of a sound. Where...what happened to the constant 'beep-beep' of the heart monitor!? Alex attempted to turn his head, managing a straining extra inch, and stared to his right, where the monitor should be...and wasn't. In fact, the only thing he noticed being paid attention to was his blood gasses and pressure. He suddenly caught a faint *click-whish*, barely perceptable, but there. He turned his head in the direction of the sound...and everything came rushing back to him. It was the artificial heart unit, the device the doctor's had rushed to hook him up to since his real heart had exploded. Dammit, what the hell was going on with him? First the extreme dream where he had awoken with glass sticking out of his body, then the series of dreams-within-dreams that had caused his...what? Heart attack? Stress-related pulmonary detonation? What was happening to him? He knew he wasn't going mad...he was well beyond that point.   
  
No, if anything was happening to him, it was Death's doing. Bastard demon had been chasing him and his friends for so damned long now that he sometimes forgot just how strong the spectre could be when it wanted to. From the tiniest, most innocent occurence to the most extreme force of nature, it had stalked him and his new friends ever since he had survived that fateful plane explosion. It had screwed up...BAD...and was tying up it's loose ends, not caring how, but seeming to prefer the most brutal and unexplainable ways possible. So far, it had failed to kill him, no matter how hard it had tried. However, in his current state, he wasn't sure it would take much for him to go under finally. Considering everything he had been through already, he wasn't so sure that was a bad thing...NO! He couldn't give in like that! He had to keep fighting...for the others. His strength, his ability to see Death coming, had kept them all alive so far, and he was sure that if he DID manage to "bite the bullet", they would all fall like dominoes in a line. He couldn't let that happen...he couldn't let them all get slaughtered because of him. Alex cleared his throat, the dryness surprising him. Still, he knew he could speak, and he had to find out what was going to happen.   
  
He flexed his hands until he felt the cable, the one that connected to the control that would call the nurse, and tugged it between his thumb and forefinger, drawing the device slowly up into his hand. He thought for sure that he would be screwed when it caught for a second on the bed railings, which were lowered because he was strapped down, but it came loose with a jerk, almost flying up into his hand. He managed to catch it before it went too far and depressed the button, a faint *ding* confirming that the nurse was on her way. A few moments later, there was a faint tap at the door and an attractive young woman-no older than Alex himself, probably-entered the room, her light red hair reflecting the bright lights. She strode over to the bed and checked the monitors first, making sure everything was okay, marking a few items on her chart. When she finished, she held the clipboard in both hands in front of her, looking down at him and smiling sweetly. Alex was surprised at how attractive she was...normally, these types of nurses were reserved for pornos, weren't they?   
  
She opened her thin but full lips slightly then, taking in a quick breath, and spoke, her voice tinkling like a chorus of bells, background supported by an angelic choir. Damn, she had a beautiful voice.   
  
"Yes, Mister Browning, how may I help you?"   
  
Alex was actually speechless for a few seconds, then managed to force his voice, the dryness in his throat screaming at him as the air vibrated through his vocal chords. His own voice came out harsh, brittle, barely a whisper. "I...I..need...w..w.." The nurse suddenly nodded, then turned on her heel and practically bolted out the door. She returned less than a second later, rolling in a wheeled cart with a tray holding a handful of styrofoam cups and a large pitcher of water. She wheeled the cart skillfully to his bedside, then reached over and slowly raised the bed with the remote control. She only raised it half a foot, but it was enough for his head to be elevated for a drink. Alex sighed as he finally had a bit better view of the room, and suddenly wished he hadn't. Large, bulky, blinking and pumping devices were everywhere, leaving very little room for anything or anyone else. The nurse...Patty, said her nametag...poured a half-glass of the water and raised it slowly to his lips, tilting it enough to allow a slow, steady sliver of the clear fluid to meet his lips. Alex practically breathed in the life-giving water, letting it flow first into his mouth, saturating his cottony tongue, and then flowing slowly, langorously down his parched throat.   
  
He had never realized how sensual drinking water could be until this day, but he was sure he could never go another day without drinking as much as he could. The glass emptied slowly, but it did empty. Patty lowered the white foam cup and replaced it on the tray. Alex watched the cup go away sadly, but realized that he actually felt much better. He croaked a meager thank you, to which Patty grinned and nodded, and then cleared his throat again, calling her attention. She looked at him expectantly and he finally voiced the question that had been burning inside him ever since he had gotten his bearings.   
  
"What*heff*what is going to happen...to me?"   
  
Patty's eyes suddenly became far away, drawn back, and her face took on a very scary professional look. "Well, Mister Browning, they are working very hard on procuring a heart for a transplant, but..." Alex interrupted, finishing her sentence.   
  
"But, because of my...rare..blood type, it's difficult, right?" Patty nodded and looked back at his chart.   
  
"It says here that, should everything go as planned, you should have the surgery the middle of next month, which is only a handful of weeks away."   
  
Alex groaned...a handful of weeks? Stuck in this room, with all these damned machines, unable to move? Damn. And just when life was looking up, too. Alex sighed deeply and looked back at Patty, who was looking at him curiously. She seemed to catch herself and once again looked the part of the attractive, bubbly nurse she had been moments ago. Alex couldn't help but smile at her strength, at her beauty. She was a nurse, sure, but one of the good ones. "Is that all, Mister Browning?" Alex's smile faltered a bit, but he nodded.   
  
"But please, call me Alex, okay? You make me feel old when you call me mister."   
  
Patty gave a little start, and then laughed. If her voice and smile weren't pretty enough, that laugh was enough to make demon's change their religion. Still giggling lightly-she giggled?-Patty turned and started to head out of the room. Before she fully exited, though, she poked her head around the closing door.   
  
"Alex? Would you like me to turn on the radio for you?" Alex nodded gratefully. Well, at least he had some tunes. No television, but tunes. Beggars can't be choosy, he thought.   
  
She leaned over against the wall and fiddled with a small dial, faint clicks resounding oddly in the room as she adjusted it. It must have been volume, because the room slowly filled with some sort of adult alternative. Not his favorite, but it was fine for now. He thanked her again hoarsely, and she smiled at him again.   
  
"No problem,sir. Either Megan, the charge nurse, or I should be in in another hour to check on you. Don't go anywhere now."   
  
Alex almost laughed at the comment. If Megan was anything like Patty, he was sure that his stay would be a little bit easier. If only he could move his arms or something. Oh well. He leaned into the still slightly raised back of the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of his friends, the ones that were still alive, and the ones that had died. How is it that life could be so cruel sometimes, and at others seem completely worthwhile? If he could have shaken his head, he could have. Alex continued to stare at the ceiling while the music played softly in the background, something by Staind carrying its depressing and oh-so-sad lyrics into his head. He wouldn't fall asleep with the music playing, but then again, he didn't want to. He needed to think, and he needed to keep himself somewhat occupied deciding what he would do for the next few weeks.   
  
Since he couldn't sit up or do anything too straining, he figured he might be able to find another patient to play chess-by-mail with. Alex had gotten into the game when he met another player online, and had instantly fallen in love with it. It allowed him the freedom of not wasting a full two hours on a complete game, but still difficult to be a worthwhile challenge. Yeah...that would be good. He might even be able to talk Patty into a game. If she even played...and if she didn't, he would be more than happy to teach her. Yes indeed, this might not be so bad after all. As long as he didn't die first. 


	6. Chapter Six

Megan Christch grunted as the water that had been so warm moments earlier suddenly turned cold. Twisting around in panic, she spun the valves to off and stood there panting, dripping wet and now freezing. She had wanted to relax, take a warm shower, maybe even just lounge about in her underwear and a robe for the day. Now, her plans were marred. Flinging the shower curtain aside, she grabbed a faded green towel from the rack only inches away and started toweling her short cut auburn hair. Stepping out of the tub/shower combo, she turned to look at Aleisha Moreno, who was smirking. "What the hell are you grinning at?" snapped Alexis, finishing off the remainder of her slim body and snatching her bra from her friends outstretched hands. Snapping the enclosures on the front of the small support, she took her matching white-and-Sponge Bob panties from Aleisha and shoved them on, turning and storming from the bathroom, Aleisha barely able to hold in the laughter bubbling in her chest.   
  
Megan had been at Aleisha's throat ever since Alex had set them up to watch each other's backs. The match had certainly not been one made in heaven, but with the unbalance in the group and the prudish nature of most of the girls, Aleisha included, she and Megan ended up sleeping, eating, bathing, even going to the store together. It was like a lesbian relationship without the perks, and Megan was certainly butch enough. The two girls were at odds about almost everything: Punk and R&B, Goth and Hilfiger, shaved and designed, spiked and long flowing. Almost everything that they did together wound up as some argument, and it was slowly getting to be a workable schedule. It was the ideal hate-hate relationship, and they pulled it off almost perfectly. However, today was going to be a tough compromise. Aleisha had planned on going out with the others to see a recent release movie, but Megan had planned on vegging out at the motel, watching MTV and noshing on Cheez Curlz. Sighing, Aleisha walked out of the bathroom and found her roommate indeed cuddled up on the bed, head hanging upside down over the edge, flipping through channels and chomping..oh, my apologies..Cheesy Popcorn.   
  
"Dammit, Megan, is this what your going to do all day?" Aleisha asked, the exasperation in her voice tinged with anger.   
  
Megan didn't even look at her, much less acknowledge she had heard what she had said, and stopped on a documentary on Aerosmith. Walking over to the foot of the bed, Aleisha stood directly in the line of the television and coughed deep in her throat, drawing Megan to raise her head enough to glare at her.   
  
"What?" she mumbled through a yellowed mouthful of popcorn.  
  
"Megan, I was wanting to go see that new horror flic with Mark and Alexis. Now, I know we're supposed to stay together, but seeing as your not planning to go anywhere short of unconscious today, I'm going to leave my cell phone number on the bedstand and just head out. I'm sure you'll be fine passed out drooling on the floor, right?"  
  
Megan just continued to glare at her, then returned her head to upside down, shrugging. Instead of waiting for Aleisha to move, Megan pushed her hands between her roommates legs and pressed them apart as best she could until she was watching Steven Tyler screaming into his mouth-dwarfed microphone. Yelping in surprise, Aleisha struggled to stay standing and with a huff and a prissy little yell stomped off, jabbing a pen to paper and shoving the number onto the bedstand, on which rested the phone, a lamp, and a Bible with several coaster stains.   
  
"If anything bad happens, we're only five minutes away. If anything good happens, keep it to yourself. And if you die and come back to haunt me, I swear to God I'm gonna exorcise your ass myself."   
  
With this last tyrade, Aleisha grabbed a Gap fleece jacket and her Gucci purse and keys, slamming the door on her way out, shaking the walls and causing a rather ugly painting to collapse to the floor. Megan looked up as the image of some Southern Nevada moonscape flipped over and tore on a coat hook, and smiled. Damned painting was an eyesore anyway. Looking back to the television, she had just enough time to whine in fear and cover her face as the television, only two feet away, came scooting out of it's cubby against the wall, landing with a crash.  
  
All was darkness and pounding bass. Wait...that bass....that wasn't a drum...her heartbeat. The darkness...it seemed to pulsate, was broken by bits of light and wrinkles of something pink...her hands. She was alive! Shaking with fear, Megan pulled her hands slowly away from her eyes and saw that the set had strangled itself by the cable connection, hanging an inch off of the floor and swinging lightly. Still breathing hard, Megan tried to call out to Aleisha, but her words came out as just a strangled whisper. On shaky legs she slid off the bed and made her way to the closet, pulling a pair of wide legged black pants and a tank top from off the floor, where she kept her clothes. Pulling them on, she grabbed a pair of sneakers and pulled them on, tying them clumsily, not bothering with socks. Jumping up, she grabbed her own keys and bolted out the door, closing it hard and locking the deadbolt. She was still shaking as she staggered down the hallway and out of the building, but the cool late-summer breeze steeled her enough so she knew where she was going. That had been the second time in three months that she had almost been killed by an appliance, the first one her oven at her parents house.   
  
The stove had been relatively new, only a year and a half old, and the connection to the unit newer than that. She had opened the wide front door to replace the burnt out lightbulb, unscrewing the old one and attaching the new one swiftly, as the gas unit was hot even when not in use. She had started to lean out when a sudden *click* caught her attention. Easing out of the oven, she had almost closed the door entirely when a massive plume of bluish-red fire erupted from a burner on top, almost right in her face. Screaming, she had scampered back as flames seemed to engulf the unit, undulating and flowing as if alive. She had run from her home that day, only to return five hours later to a burnt shell. She had lost her mom, little brother and cat all in that small span, and Alex Browning had come to her rescue like the little boy scout she had always seen him as.Today had been twice now, and she wasn't going to stay alone anymore. The cinema was only five blocks away, and she made a light jog towards it, swiftly catching up with the others and wrapping her arms around Aleisha in a tight, sisterly hug. The blonde gasped in surprise and almost screamed, but soon realized it was Megan and turned around. The first thing she noticed was that her roommate was NOT in a good mood.  
  
"Megan, hon, what happened? Did something bad happen?"  
  
Megan nodded, muttering "Television....fell...almost...my head...oh, God...don't leave me again!"   
  
She almost sobbed the last part, burying her face into Aleisha's hair and hugging her tightly. Aleisha just stood there, cooing softly and rubbing her friends back, trying to calm her down. After a few moments, she finally pulled Megan away from her soaked shoulder and asked "Would you like to come with us and see the movie hon?"   
  
Megan started to nod, but then remembered what type it was. "No...no, not horror! Please! There has to be something else." Aleisha looked back at Mark and Alexis. Mark shrugged his narrow but strong shoulders, his grey eyes, lightly brushed with locks of brown hair, showing the pain he felt for Megan. Alexis nodded slowly, a look of deep concern and fear on her own dark-complected face. She was polynesian, and looked it, with dark, butt length hair, a natural tan, and large, oval shaped eyes.   
  
Aleisha looked back to Megan and said softly "All right, hon. We'll see what else there is. I'm sure that there is some teeny bopper film out. There's a new one every week."  
  
Megan looked at her roommate in mock horror, mouthing the word "NO". Aleisha laughed and threw her arm around Megan's shoulders, guiding her along with the rest to the lonely, three-screened theater that practically screamed "I was around during Prohibition!".They laughed as they walked into the large double doors to the ticket clerk, the opening closing slowly with a swooosh of air. Little did they notice the dark, smoky shadow that slipped in behind them just before the door clicked shut, the lock rotating slowly, silently before deadbolting into place. 


End file.
